


Under Pressure

by starrylizard



Category: MacGyver (TV 2016)
Genre: Action, Afghanistan, Gen, Hurt Angus Macgyver (Macgyver 2016), Hurt Jack Dalton (MacGyver TV 2016), Hurt/Comfort, Non-Canonical Character Death, Protective Jack Dalton (MacGyver 2016), Sandbox fic, War violence, Whump, chest needle decompression
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-21
Updated: 2020-09-21
Packaged: 2021-03-08 01:41:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,928
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26577742
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starrylizard/pseuds/starrylizard
Summary: A bad day in Afghanistan finds Mac and Jack caught in an explosion. Can Jack get them to safety in time?
Relationships: Jack Dalton & Angus MacGyver (MacGyver TV 2016)
Comments: 30
Kudos: 76





	Under Pressure

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings for violence that kills two soldiers. My prompt was a video on how to do a chest needle decompression, so fair warning for that too.  
> The story is set in Afghanistan and is meant to be set soon after Jack chose to stay there as Mac's overwatch. Thanks so much to Nativestar for the early read through and helpful comments. Written for day 2, Mac hurt (in a non-canon way), of the 'septembermacgyverwhump' challenge at Tumblr.

**Under Pressure**

Jack rolled the ATV into an emptied out back street, stopping as the soldiers already there waved to them. Afghanistan felt hotter and more oppressive today than usual. It was one of those days when nothing could make you feel cool. Mac was currently half dozing against the window, looking as miserable as Jack felt. Four bomb disposals down, three quick, one eye-bleedingly slow, and it was barely even noon. If Jack hadn’t forced Mac to take water and food breaks whenever his own belly started to demand it, he knows the pale-skinned bomb tech would be dying of heat stroke by now. 

This fifth call had come in just as Jack had decided he was due for lunch. He’d still been eating the parts of lunch that he could manage to eat one-handed as they rolled in. He took a last bite of his power bar as he poked Mac into relative alertness. 

“We’re up, Hoss. Let’s make this one another quick one, huh. I don’t fancy staying around here too long.” 

Jack was taking in the various buildings and the narrow street that was practically an alley, barely space for their vehicle, and he really didn’t like it from a situational stand point. To put it mildly, they were sitting ducks. 

Mac rolled his eyes. “I don’t choose the timeframe, Jack. It’s the bomb’s complexity and you know it.” 

His response held no humour, just simple tired frustration that Jack could seriously relate to. Mac pushed open his door, his eyes squinting in a less than happy way as he stepped out into the heat to greet their fellow soldiers. Jack joined him, still scanning the buildings and surroundings for any possible enemy combatants. 

“What’ve we got?” Mac asked. 

“Report was that the stack of clay pots over there were suspicious. We couldn’t see anything obvious, but didn’t want to poke around too much in case there’s a trigger in the lids or something. A sweep did give us radio feedback, so there’s something in there. Sorry to be so vague.” The soldier, his name tag listing him as Banks, shrugged. To his credit, he did seem genuinely apologetic not to be able to give more solid intel. 

“Alright well, I guess I’ll take a look then.” 

Mac looked to Jack, seeking permission of a sort, waiting for Jack to nod before making his way to the stack of baskets and earthenware pots in question. It had taken a little work, but Jack felt that the kid had finally got it into his head that Overwatch meant Jack kept him safe and he knew what he was doing. 

Banks nodded back towards his own partner who was leaning on their vehicle, clearly scanning the surroundings with as much frustration as Jack had just been doing. He looked back towards Jack, before speaking. “We got another call out if you think you got this covered?” 

It was phrased as a question, but the man was moving before Jack even got out a disgruntled sound of agreement. None of them wanted to be here. In the heat, in this alley, feeling shitty and exposed. 

The two men packed themselves into their vehicle and set out, as Jack turned to watch Mac’s progress. He’d wait for Mac to confirm if there was a device at all before he tried to find a better overwatch position. Lately there’d been a lot of false calls. A transmitting radio, some metal and a dusting of explosive and most of their detection systems could be fooled into thinking it was more than it was. Right now, something in his gut was screaming this was not good and he’d learned from hard experience to always listen to his gut when it came to two things: food and bad situations. 

One other thing he’d learned was that violence happened quickly and you rarely knew it was coming before it was just . . . there. The explosion caught him off guard, the direction of the other friendly vehicle being the only place he wasn’t looking closely for danger. The heat and fire ripped down the alley as the explosion, probably an RPG from the sound, ripped through the vehicle. The percussive force threw Jack from his feet before he could even begin to process what had occurred. He covered his head and tried to make himself small as bits of metal and glass shrapnel rained down on him and he hit the dirt hard, knocking the wind out of his chest. Something sharp bit into his thigh, and another smacked a glancing blow across the side of his head despite his effort to protect it. A large chunk of engine landed just inches to his left causing him to roll sideways in reaction. 

Jack managed to get himself to his knees, wobbling as he shook his head and blinked dirt from his eyes; the hearing in his ears had been replaced by a high-pitched sound. He thought he could see blood raining down amongst the shrapnel and dust; possibly what was left of Banks and the other soldier with him after such a close-range hit. A severed hand landed in front of him and Jack tried not to wretch. There wasn’t time for that, he needed to get a new picture of what was happening. He needed to find Mac. 

“Mac?” he called out, pushing himself off one knee and scanning the buildings as best he could through the debris. 

He limped, feeling a burning pain in his thigh only distantly through the adrenaline coursing through his system, as he made his way to Mac’s last known location. The pots and baskets had all been blown into a disarrayed heap against the wall. Clearly no bomb then, his inner voice informed. A trap more likely. They really were sitting ducks here. 

“Mac?” he called again. There was a boot and a hand sticking out. The rest of Mac’s body was hidden beneath some of the very same baskets and pots he’d been investigating mere moments before, combined with several larger pieces of debris. “Shit, come on, Mac. Answer me.” 

Honestly, he wasn’t sure if he’d hear any reply through the damn high-pitched tinnitus now screaming in his ears, but a movement would be good. Jack grabbed the wrist of the hand nearest him, thankfully finding a pulse, as he started throwing off baskets and pots, bits of clay brick, metal and other debris. Mac was covered in dirt, no doubt as Jack was himself. His eyes were closed, but as Jack slapped less than gently at the kid’s face, he felt a groan beneath his hands. Mac’s eyes opened suddenly and he seemed to blink several times before focusing on Jack. 

A bullet ricocheted off the wall above them and that was Jack’s cue to hustle if he’d ever needed one. He could only hope Mac’s injuries didn’t include spinal damage as he physically man-handled the kid to his feet, throwing one of Mac’s arms over his own shoulders and grabbing his belt loop for purchase. He grabbed his gun from his thigh holster with his other hand and laid down cover fire as he dashed to the ATV, pleased that Mac started taking some of his own weight as they moved. 

A bullet or two pinged off the vehicle, but whoever was shooting was in a bad position or a lousy shot with the dust from the explosion still creating some semblance of cover. Jack managed to open the back door and swing Mac around, practically lifting him into the back compartment and pushing him down as he slammed the door closed and opened the front door at the same time. He emptied the last of the clip in the general direction of the shooter as he threw himself into the driver’s seat next. He hit reverse and floored the engine, keeping himself low. 

More shots starred the bullet proof glass of the windows as he just kept going. When he hit the end of the alley, he spun the vehicle out into the next street and back into drive. He drove with a lead foot and didn’t plan to stop for anything until they were back out of the populated area and on the main road. 

“Mac, you with me, kid? We’re almost out, just hang in there. I got you, Hoss.” 

Jack did his best to get a look at Mac, snatching glances into the back where Mac was still lying at an angle, his head propped slightly against his own heavy rucksack, just as Jack had left him. He didn’t get an answer, but as his hearing was becoming slightly less shocky, he could make out the odd breathy groan that at least let him know he hadn’t lost the kid yet. 

Jack reached for his satellite phone, keeping one hand on the wheel as he kept up a terrible speed for such a bulky vehicle. 

“This is Snakebite One One, we are in retreat and under fire. I repeat we are in retreat. We are in need of immediate cover fire and medical evac. Currently oscar mike heading east out of town.” 

“Snakebite One One, we copy. Sending backup and medical to your location. ETA fifteen mikes.”

“Understood, Snakebite One One out.” 

Jack snapped the phone back onto his tac vest. He brought the ATV to a controlled stop several minutes later. They were now outside the main town and several kilometres into mostly deserted road, and Jack hoped that meant they were no longer in any immediate danger. At least here, he should see it coming if they were. 

He scrambled through the middle of the seats and crouched down next to Mac, what he could immediately see ramped his worry up to one hundred. Mac was clearly in distress; his breathing was rapid and shallow and his lips were starting to turn an unhealthy blue tinge against his pale skin. 

Jack placed a solid hand on Mac’s shoulder and took a deep breath, schooling his expression and calming his voice before he spoke. 

“Hey Mac, can you open your eyes for me? Tell me what hurts.” 

To Jack’s relief, Mac’s eyes fluttered open, but the look he gave Jack was heavily laced with fear and panic. 

“Jack . . . It’s hard to. . . breathe. Help!” The last word was squeaked out on a particularly unsuccessful exhale, as Mac reached his hand up to grab a handful of Jack’s BDUs and Jack placed his own hand on top of it, squeezing for a moment. 

“Mac, I gotta get this gear off you, so I can see what’s going on. Help if you can, alright.” Mac’s eyes were drifting and Jack gave him a small shake. “You copy, kiddo? Eyes on me! I’ll do most of the work, but you gotta stay with me.” 

Mac locked his eyes back onto Jack and nodded, dragging in another pained-looking breath as Jack quickly unwound the scarf around his neck and then set about unbuckling the flick vest and positioned Mac’s arms to slide that out of the way too. Mac moaned in pain at the movement and Jack winced.

“Sorry, Mac. I don’t mean to be rough, but I can’t help unless I can see what’s going on.”

“Can’t breathe,” Mac repeated. “Can’t . . .” The panic in his voice was clear. 

The body armour was trickier, Jack started to unbuckle it, his fingers slipping as he tried to hurry, but it was heavy and it would normally be removed over the top of Mac’s head. Jack reached for the trauma kit attached to his tac vest instead. He extricated the trauma shears from inside the kit and with a bit of effort managed to just cut through the straps, so he could push the armour off to one side. Mac looked like he might pass out completely as the weight of the body armour came off.

“Hey kiddo, let me do the hard work, remember. We’re almost done.” 

It was taking too long; each breath Mac took was getting more strained. Jack cut through Mac’s BDU shirt and the t-shirt beneath revealing his chest in various shades of bruise. 

“Shit, kid! Something heavy did a number on you,” Jack commented, trying to keep it light. The reality was, his body armour almost certainly saved his life today, spreading the force of impact from whatever hit him. “Just keep breathing, Mac. Stay with me.”

But Jack’s worst suspicions were now confirmed. Mac’s gaze was growing more and more bleary as he gasped for air, chest clearly heaving unevenly and, even just from Jack’s visual inspection, it looked like the kid’s trachea was starting to deviate off to the left. Tension pneumothorax was setting in, which meant he had mere minutes to do something or Mac wasn’t going to make it. He couldn’t see any penetrating injuries, so he could only assume one, or possibly more, of Mac’s ribs had broken badly enough to nick his lung causing air to fill the pleural space. 

Years of experience that he’d rather not have, meant his trauma kit was stocked to his exacting specifications with everything in its rightful place and he was grateful for that right now. Tucked into the top corner were several needle decompression kits, their red caps easily identifiable. Tucked in with them were several disinfectant wipes and disposable gloves. Jack ripped one open. 

“Little cold,” Jack warned, then quickly wiped the top half of the right side of Mac’s chest. The lack of any response was telling. Mac was slowly losing his fight with consciousness. “Hang in bud, stay with me.” 

“Now the less pleasant bit,” Jack continued, hoping Mac’s big brain was taking it in. Jack snapped the gloves on, before he twisted open the decompression kit and slid out the needle, then felt along to the second intercostal space, visualising the training as he was careful to keep well away from the centre line of the chest. “I’m not gonna lie, this is gonna hurt, Mac. But I promise it’ll help you breathe. You just need to try to keep still.” 

Jack was relieved to see a slight nod from Mac as the kid continued to gasp hopelessly for air. He hoped it wasn’t just wishful thinking that he’d seen him respond, but then Mac’s hand moved again to grip and twist this time into his tac vest and Jack nodded back. 

“Here it goes, one, two . . .” Jack stabbed the needle precisely into Mac’s chest, using his other hand to carefully push Mac down as he felt him start to buck up and attempt to grunt at the sharp pain it caused. Jack took a shaky breath he hadn’t realised he was holding as he heard the air start to escape from Mac’s chest and after a five-count he removed the needle leaving just the catheter in place. The reaction was near to immediate as Mac started to breathe more freely; each breath now raising his chest a little more. The hand Mac didn’t still have clutching Jack’s vest was now splinting his ribs as the necessary and very welcome improved movement of air no doubt caused his ribs to scream with a new sort of pain. 

“Okay, just let it do its thing, Mac. Try to breathe normally if you can. I know it hurts.” He gently patted Mac’s shoulder, not game to touch the bruising on his chest more than absolutely necessary. He tore a few strips of medical tape to secure his hard work in place. 

When Jack raised his eyes up from the tape, Mac was looking directly at him again, already his breathing was much improved from moments earlier; his colour was improving too. 

“Thank you,” Mac said on a breathy sigh. Jack watched as Mac closed his eyes for a moment and he seemed to concentrate on the sheer pleasure of breathing, even though his ribs must be giving him hell for it. Mac opened his eyes again a short time later giving Jack a pointed sort of look. “You’re bleeding,” he stated. 

“You’re right as usual Hoss, but not being shot at and you not breathing were more pressing matters until now,” he answered. “Breathing before bleeding, yeah.”

Jack winked, but he had to admit, now that the adrenaline was wearing off, his head and his thigh could use some attention. He grabbed a bandage out of the kit and applied pressure to his head, which wasn’t bleeding all that much given it was a head wound. Some clotting must have already occurred. Rather than look too hard at his thigh which he was pretty sure had a foreign object lodged inside it somewhere, he cut open his BDUs enough to let him pack combat gauze on top of the wound and then wrapped a pressure bandage around it all as tight as his pain tolerance would allow. He knew removing the shrapnel would be a fool’s errand. It might well be the only thing stopping him from bleeding out right now. 

The whole process made his vison black out around the edges briefly and his hands shook when he was done. He leaned back to catch his breath.

“Satisfied?” He asked Mac. The kid hadn’t taken his eyes off Jack the whole time, but he gave a slight nod again at the question.

“Is help coming?” Mac asked. He knew they were hours from base if they were on their own.

“Yeah, lemme get a sit. rep. on our promised rescue. Should be here in less than ten.”

Jack picked up the sat phone again and was about to dial when he felt, more than heard the grumble of an approaching engine. _Shit._ “Goddamnit, give me a break!” Jack groused. Peering out the back of the ATV, he could see a pick-up truck approaching in the distance, with what appeared to be armed men bristling out of the tray. 

With some effort, he swung himself back into the driver’s seat. “We’ve got company, Mac. Try to hold on to something. Might get bumpy again.” Shots rang out as he spoke, but the truck wasn’t close enough for the shots to hit with any accuracy yet. Likely still out of range based on the usual style of weapon available to enemy combatants in this area. 

Jack hit the gas, hoping to simply stay far enough ahead of the old truck as to be out of easy firing range. A quick check of his watch told him they shouldn’t be alone too much longer. The gunfire was getting closer and with each bump he heard grunts and whimpers from the back where Mac didn’t even have the benefit of the suspension in the front seats. His ribs would be taking a whole new beating that Jack sincerely wished he could avoid. 

The sound of a Blackhawk’s rotors hit Jack’s senses, and a moment later the sleek machine came sweeping into view. Machine guns fired as the truck broke off pursuit and Jack came to a halt as the bird landed between them and the retreating vehicle. 

Jack whooped with sheer relief, pretty sure there were some tears in his eyes and he just didn’t care at this point. “They’re here Mac. We’re getting out of here, woo!” 

Mac managed a pained, but genuine smile and a thumbs up at Jack, and it was the best thing Jack had seen all day. 

He exited the ATV, throwing open the back door to allow access to Mac as he saw the medics making their way under the cover of the rest of the Blackhawk’s crew. “Tension pneumothorax. I did a needle chest decompression,” he explained, yelling to be heard above the helicopter as the medics brought the stretcher and started loading Mac onto it. “Could be further injuries I haven’t found yet,” he admitted. 

Two soldiers exited the helicopter, one leaning in to Jack to speak closer to his ear. “Go with the medics, get yourself sorted out too, we’ll take the ATV back to base. There’s a second bird coming to give us cover.” Jack nodded his understanding, more than willing to stay with Mac. 

On board, the medics went to work, checking vitals and stabilising Mac for the short flight. Jack shrugged off their help, insisting they keep their attention on Mac. The medic must have seen the look in Jack’s eyes because he backed off and let him sit by Mac, before unobtrusively as possible taking Jack’s blood pressure and other vitals. 

Jack kept a steadying hand on Mac’s shoulder, only letting go when they landed and whisked him away for emergency surgery. Jack followed more slowly, hopping and limping until someone shoved him into a wheelchair and whisked him in the same direction. They’d made it. Jack swiped a shaky hand across his face and through his hair. He only hoped he’d done enough for his EOD nerd. As much as today had sucked, he’d never been more sure than he was at this moment that staying to protect the kid had been the right move.

\-----

Jack shifted and moaned. Somehow, he just couldn’t get comfortable. The movement caused a sharp pain through his thigh and he let out a huff at the injustice of it all. His head felt foggy, his mouth full of cotton wool. The good drugs most likely, or he kind of hoped, because the alternative was probably even less good. With another muffled groan his brain started putting it all together. The vehicle explosion, gunfire . . . Mac was hurt and . . .

“Mac?” Jack opened his eyes, sitting up suddenly as a hand reached out to keep him in bed.

“Look who’s awake.” The voice came from a nearby nurse. It seemed like he’d been waiting for exactly this response. “Again,” he added wryly.

“What?” Jack asked.

“Look to your left. EOD MacGyver came through surgery fine.” The nurse sounded slightly amused, not by the message, but perhaps by the situation.

“You’ve told me this before, haven’t you?” Jack asked, as he diligently looked to his left, where another bed was positioned. The head of the bed was propped up and Jack sighed in relief when he saw Mac, breath fogging a mask in a regular pattern.

“Looks like you might remember it this time, though.” The nurse stated. “We moved you in here together when you asked about him . . . often. It’s pretty common around here, so no problem. MacGyver suffered several broken or cracked ribs and a punctured lung. Otherwise mostly bruising. You saved his life with that chest decompression. He’s now the proud owner of a chest tube and a couple of plated ribs.”

Jack turned back to the nurse, who simply shrugged with a small smile. “You, in case it’s of interest, were lucky. The shrapnel in your thigh didn’t hit anything too major. Surgeon expects you’ll make a full recovery in short order. You’ve also got some stitches in your scalp, and any number of bruises, but nothing that won’t heal.”

Jack breathed a sigh of relief he hadn’t noticed himself holding. He let himself be pushed back fully to the mattress as the nurse raised the bed head for him.

“Thank you,” he said.

“Call me if you need anything,” the nurse stated, a wry smile still on his lips as he wandered off to no doubt check on other patients.

Jack settled in, and if his head remained tilted to his left, still keeping his watch as he dozed in and out of sleep, nobody needed to know.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading. Any comments or discussion always welcome.  
> Disclaimer: I am not a medical or military professional. I do research though, and at the end of the day it's fiction and I'm here for the drama. I'm always happy to learn more stuff though. :D


End file.
